


The Rhovanion Corporation

by Lucreace



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Drug Dealing, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Gang, M/M, Modern AU, Nasty, Other, Prostitution, pharmaceuticals, warfare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29465349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucreace/pseuds/Lucreace
Summary: Making the decision to rejoin the world after millennia within their home was perhaps one of Thranduil's worst decisions as ruler. Segregated and treated like second class citizens, the elves must carve their existence out of almost nothing. Fortunately, years of experience have taught the Elven King a trick or two about survival.In the modern world, the elves lives are a drug fuelled, hell. Gang wars, trafficking and violence are only a few of the challenges they all face.
Kudos: 1





	The Rhovanion Corporation

The view from the top of the Rhovanion Corporation’s top floor window was one of the best Canthuiel had ever seen. Far, far below her, people – humans – scurried about their daily business no larger than the aphid she had brushed from her hand earlier that morning. They seemed almost harmless from up here. Beyond them, the city sprawled off in every direction. Here and there, the odd tree remained but it was mostly an urban spread of muted greys, flashing together to create a dreary canvass of lifelessness. It was the distance that she liked. From up here, the hazy dark echo of the mountains smeared the horizon. That was home. This grey jungle would never be so, no matter how long her people lived here.

Up here, towering above the dirty streets, granted a sort of freedom. Although the tower block had some height to it, it was nothing compared to this place. She was sure that if she looked straight down, she would see clouds dancing below her feet.

“Did you get that?”

Canthuiel snapped her head around and blinked. Her master had brought her here for a purpose and it was not to gaze out of the window. She lowered her eyes, taking in the crisp, executive space, unable to fight the envy at the clean white room.

“Goheno nin,” she said.

“Their tongue Canthuiel.”

“Forgive me,” she repeated, “I always get captivated with the view from up here.” He folded his arms, crinkling the crisp black suit he wore. Canthuiel dropped her gaze to the carpet. She sensed his displeasure, knew it would have consequences later. For now, he merely snorted.

“I need you to note down that the sales of Naeg have dropped due to the influx of Guruth developed by the Noldor gang. It is a cheaper psychedelic that is not as potent. Price is the issue here,” he said. Canthuiel jotted that down in her shorthand, focusing on her master and the human on the opposite side of the table.

The human was the opposite of her master. He was short, dark haired and thin as a sapling in springtime. His eyes were near black, his skin swarthy and a neat goatee adorned his chin. He smelled like a human, though he masked that with a chemical compound that was supposed to be floral. It smelled exactly like chemicals. “We are working to develop a cheaper, more potent, version of this Guruth. The chemical compound is not difficult to replicate, however the cost is high,” he said.

Her master leaned forward on the desk, his arms steepling in front of his face. “I want to see the formula,” he said. Canthuiel noted that down, focusing on the paper in front of her rather than the view outside.

“Now? It’s not ready, we’re still working on the finer details.”

His hand slammed on the desk, his dark brows furrowing. Canthuiel jumped. The pen slipped on the paper. She could still read her words.

“Not good enough,” her master said. “Don’t tell me you have a solution and then not deliver. Either it is ready and you can show it, or it is not and you need more motivation. I am not supplying you with the funds to research these medicines to come up with no results. Work quicker!”

The man flinched. “Of course,” he said nodding his head.

“I shall return in a week. I want results by then.”

“There will be something to show.”

Her master unfolded his arms and leaned back, “We cannot afford to let the Noldor breakthrough affect the value of what we do here. My concern is that the value of our stock will drop. I do not want to have to deal with uppity members of the board who will be concerned about the source of this drop,” he said.

Canthuiel knew that going through human proxies vexed her master a great deal. Since their rehabilitation into mortal society, there had been a number of laws passed. The inability to own property outright was just one of them. She folded the notepad shut and tucked the pen into the curls of her blonde hair.

“I understand, I will have the board reassured should anything come of this, you have my word.”

“You know what will happen if you don’t.” Canthuiel hated that part. Her master had been the leader of their people for millennia; he knew what he was doing. The mortals had made their lives almost unbearable, but she still pitied them. This man had only tried to help them, and for that, he would never escape the threat of danger.

There was not much she could do about that though, what her boss did was not something she could change. She obeyed, that was enough to keep her out of The Pit and all that entailed. She shuddered and tucked the notepad under her arm. “Canthuiel, have the car brought around,” he said. She nodded, and left the office without a word.

The lighter clicked, the flame was sucked into to end of a cigarette and it clicked off. Moments later, blue grey smoke filled the air followed by a gratified sigh. It was a vile habit and Thranduil knew it, but it was one of the small ways he was able to cope with the idiots who assisted with the running of the Rhovanion Corporation. He took another drag, listening to the hiss of the tobacco as it the ember flared. Another exhalation and he felt the calming flush flood through his body.

He heard, rather than saw, the disapproving pout from Canthuiel beside him. It had no adverse effect on his health and the heaviness of the nicotine was something he rather liked. It was calming, tasted alright and aside from the occasional cough, made life a bit easier to deal with. Except for the smell, that was something that he couldn’t avoid. There were those vape machines of course but he did not like them in the same way. Canthuiel opened the window.

She had annoyed him earlier by not paying attention, but he was not petty enough to make her wind up the window. Instead, he looked out his, watching as the streets changed from uptown, to downtown, to near slum. The car pulled up at a pair of wire gates and both occupants got out. Thranduil flicked the end of the cigarette onto the pavement and stepped on it. The chainlink gates were opened by a pair of humans. Both were armed with guns, and made no sound as they did their job.

The two elves stepped inside, back to their world. “Where you belong,” snorted one of the guards.

If the surrounding area was a near slum, this was a barrio. Most of the buildings here were ramshackle, some had lean-twos against them, which housed small families. No services came into the district, as such rubbish was piled up at the entrance waiting for a collection that came once a month at best. The street was dusty, the tarmac cracked. No vehicles were allowed within these streets, only scooters and there were plenty of those lying around. Some working, most not.

The pavement crunched under Thranduil’s polished boot. His residence was at the top of one of the surviving high-rise buildings in the north of the district. This was not the only one of its kind. Each faction of the elves had one, as had been set down when they emerged and re-joined society. They had spread to the outlying streets since then of course, and the district had grown. Buildings built upon buildings and walkways created a maze of tunnels and walk throughs. Only those that lived within it knew the way through it properly.

Thranduil and Canthuiel certainly did, and they took the swiftest way to the high-rise. The main throughfare, if it could be called that, was relatively safe but it wouldn’t do to be caught in to open. The Sindar were not the only clan to have dealings outside the barrio, but there were not many who were able to leave.

By the time they reached the foot of their high-rise block, the music was thumping through the walls. Legolas’ side venture worked well, but the music was terrible at the best of times. Canthuiel reached the door first. She pushed it open. The scent of bleach and chlorine hit the moment they stepped inside. The elevator was broken, again, so they took the stairs. By the time they reached the top, the chemical smell had receded, replaced by something entirely different.

The moment the door closed, Thranduil pulled another cigarette from his case and lit it. There was a pile of papers on his desk – work from the previous day, and mail from the morning. It could wait. “Tea,” he said as he shrugged out of his coat. Loosening his collar, he took a long draw of the cigarette and let the smoke out slowly. Canthuiel had already gone into the kitchen; it was nothing like what they’d had in the Woodland Realm, but it was functional.

He crossed to the desk and sank into the chair, resisting the urge to bury his head within his hands. This was a far cry from what he had wanted when he had agreed to coexist with humanity. He could not turn back the clock, though he dearly wished it were otherwise.

A bang on the door drew his attention, he had no appointments that afternoon. Before he could open it, the door burst forward. “Sir!” In the doorway was a young eld, blood on her hands, panic in her face. “You better come quick, there’s been a shooting!”


End file.
